Dobre tiyi lyachy chynyat', shcho ne kumayut'sya,
Pobravshysya za ruchenky ta ydut' vinchayut'sya.

Pryspiv:
– Oy bida – ne duma,
Koho lyublyu, to y kuma!
– Oy lycho, shcho za hlum,
Ya ne znala, shcho ty kum!

Ta u tiyi krynychenky zolotiyi klyuchi,
Obishchala kuma pryity, po vodu iduchy.

Yarom, yarom, kuma moya, a ya za toboyu,
Postiy postiy, kuma moya, zhovorim z toboyu.

Oy ya rodu ne takoho, chrany mene, Boze,
Oy yak vyidu na ulycyu – utikay, neboze!

Kazut' popy, kazut' dyaky, kazut' dobri lyude:
– A chto bude kumu lyubyt', hrich velykyi bude!